The Truth
by deansgirl369
Summary: The truth. That's all I'm gonna say. Wincest
1. Chapter 1

"You want a beer?" Sam asked as he turned to head to the bar, the words almost a statement and not a question, because of course Dean wanted a beer.

"No." Dean said, and almost looked surprised himself.

"Whiskey?" Sam questioned. Dean usually only drank whiskey when he was really messed up or in pain. Sam looked at Dean a little closer, maybe he had missed something, and he was a little concerned now.

Dean shook his head once, brow furrowed. "No. I don't want anything to drink. Water maybe?"

Sam looked even more confused, but headed toward the bar and Dean took a seat in a booth at the back of the small bar.

Dean felt strange. Something was off and he had felt it since they had been in the witch's cabin. 'Fuckin hate witches.'

Returning from the bar with a beer for himself and water, what the fuck, for Dean, Sam slid into the opposite side of the booth, eying Dean curiously. "Dude, water?"

"Yeah." Dean turned to look around the bar, avoiding Sam's eyes and even he wasn't sure why.

A blonde with big tits and a small waist, short shorts and cowboy boots gave Dean a sly smirk and a small wave as she caught his eye from across the room. Sam snorted, 'well, that was quick.' But Dean didn't return the wave, in fact he didn't seem to really register the interest, and Sam knew something was wrong. Not that he was complaining about Dean refusing to acknowledge the first skank that looked his way, but it certainly wasn't classic Dean. She was precisely his type, cheap looking, cute and easy.

"What's wrong with her?" Sam questioned, watching Dean closely.

"Nothing is wrong with her. " Dean answered quickly, but didn't turn his attention to Sam.

"So, why aren't you already out the door with her?"

Dean appeared to be gritting his teeth, but the answer came quickly enough, "I don't want her."

"Seriously? Are you feeling sick, Dean?" Sam hadn't taken his eyes off Dean, something was going on.

"Yes. No. Just shut up, Sam. Shit, you talk a lot."

Sam didn't acknowledge the demand or the insult. "So, if you don't want her…and I don't see anything else here you might wanna screw, and you aren't drinking…you wanna just go? Back to the room, I mean?"

Dean sighed, looked slightly pained. "No. I don't want to go back to the room." Dean was looking at the table, concentrating on something, like he was trying hard to figure something out. "Can we please just not talk, Sam? Give me five minutes of peace."

But Sam wasn't playing along, too intrigued to be quiet. Everything had to be explained, sorted out, figured out, answered with Sam. Shit.

"Dean, when was the last time you got laid?"

Dean hesitated, looked like he was thinking hard, like he had to get the answer right. "Seven months and three days ago."

"When was the last time you jerked off?"

Dean's shot daggers at Sam, but again, the answer was immediate, "This morning. Shut the fuck up, Sam. Shut up. Can you fucking hear me? Shut up. I don't want to fucking talk anymore."

So why was he? Sam had never gotten so many answers to his questions out of Dean so easily. And he wasn't going to let it drop.

Dean was starting to sweat. Fucking witches. It was obvious that he wasn't able to fucking lie, wasn't able to just not answer. This was fucking painful. Sam was starting to catch on, and he was terrified what was going to come out. Shit shit fuck.

Sam was trying to figure out what the best questions were. Because Dean was answering and for whatever reason, he wasn't going to let this opportunity pass. "What's the kinkiest thing you ever did?"

"I let some girl tie me up and spank me."

Sam resisted smiling, wasn't sure if he wanted to smile. Somehow the answer made his dick twitch in his pants. "Did you like it?"

"I liked being tied up. I didn't like being spanked." Dean refused to meet Sam's eyes.

"Huh. Tell me about it."

Dean glared at him, but said nothing. 'Huh.' Apparently only direct questions worked in this situation. "Why did you like being tied up?"

"I liked someone else being in control." Dean wanted to scream. He felt like his skin was too tight, like he was going to lose it completely.

Sam knew he was pushing Dean to the limit, but this was irresistible. He would pay later, he knew.

"Stop asking me questions, Sam. Please?"

It almost worked. Sam cringed inwardly. But too many years of secretive Dean made him push onward. There were too many things he wanted, felt like he needed, to know.

"Have you ever been in love?" Sam held his breath, wishing he could take back that question, not sure he was ready to hear the answer.

"Yes." Dean dropped his head onto his hands. Sam was going to torture him. This was getting worse. This was going to ruin his life. If Sam got to the ugliest things, he couldn't lie and it would mean watching Sam walk away again, this time for good.

"A girl I knew?" Sam heard himself ask, and damnit but he wanted to stop himself.

"No." Dean felt relief tingle through him. Temporarily averted crisis. Thank God.

Sam scrunched his eyes. No more of that. He needed not to hurt them both with that shit anymore. More interesting questions, less gut wrenching ones.

"Do you love your car more than me, Dean?" Sam grinned, trying to tease Dean.

"No."

Sam's smile broadened, not that he didn't know that one, but it felt good to make Dean say it.

"Do you think about the same thing all the time when you jack off?"

"No." Dean's voice was muffled, since he hadn't raised his head from his hands resting on the table.

"Mmmm, do you think about the same person all the time when you jerk off?" Sam thought about his own fantasies, sadly all revolving around Dean. Damn but he was glad he wasn't the one with the truth spell on him. Not that Dean didn't have any idea he was interested, but that would be too much.

"Yes." Dean's head came up, but he stared at the wall. "Ok, Sam. I'll do whatever you want if you stop asking me these fucking questions. Please, dude. This is fucking torture. You are gonna be sorry."

Sam thought about it for a second. He was tempted to ask for something, something he really wanted, but he wouldn't force Dean to do that, couldn't. Besides, it wouldn't work that way, even though it was tempting…. but this was the chance of a lifetime, and he was pretty sure he would eventually break Dean on the kissing thing. Maybe not more, but seriously—kissing? Dean had never really denied Sam anything he truly wanted.

Sam bit his tongue and held his breath, but pressed on. "Have you ever had sex with another guy?"

"No!" Dean looked at Sam momentarily, hoping this was going to throw him off the subject he feared most.

"Have you done anything sexual with a guy?"

"No. I'm not gay, Sam." That came out easily, it wasn't a lie, and Dean felt better. He wasn't gay.

"You are going to hurt me when this wears off, I know it. But you would do the same thing, Dean. You know you would. You wont admit it…wait. You would, wouldn't you?"

"Yes." Damnit, of course he would.

Dean thought about punching Sam in the face. That might shut him up. Of course, it would probably also get them thrown into jail. He would get up and leave, but without the public forum, this would be even scarier and more out of control. There was nothing to be done but let Sam beat him to death, until he asked that one question that sent him running away. It was coming, he was shocked one of them hadn't already broken the fucking seal, exposed the ugly shit inside him.

"Why don't you want to leave the bar, Dean?"

"Because there are people here and I don't want to be alone with you while I can't lie." Dean looked surprised at his own answer, but probably only because he didn't want to say it, not because he didn't already know it.

Sam thought for a moment, then realized he wanted to know. Maybe he needed to know.

"Who?"

Dean's breath caught. The question wasn't specific enough apparently , because he didn't feel the need to answer, but he knew it would be in just a second. He bolted for the door. He was to the car, and almost had the door open before Sam caught up with him, wrapping his arms around him from behind.


	2. Chapter 2

Shrugging violently, Dean cursed the fates for letting Sam turn out so fucking strong. He couldn't break away and he couldn't lie. This was it. This was the fucking moment.

Sam's breath was too close to his ear, his cock too close to his ass, his arms too close to his own cock. But it wasn't sexual. Not for Sam. He was just refusing to let Dean break away. But Dean closed his eyes, keeping his body under control as much as possible as he waited for the killing blow.

Why was that the question that finally drove Dean out of the bar? That overcame his need to be in a public place for this session of truth? Apparently it was important, and even though Sam knew it was going to hurt, he couldn't stop himself from asking. "Who do you think about when you jack off, Dean?"

"You. You Sam. Its fucking you, ok? There, are you happy? Is this what you fucking wanted? Damnit, damnit, damnit." Dean felt his eyes sting, knew he was seconds away from tears. This was more painful than the time he was almost torn apart by the Wendigo, bloody and broken. He waited for Sam to shove him away, to punch him, to say goodbye and never look back. He felt the tension shoot through Sam, every muscle tightening as if for attack, but then he stilled, his grip loosening slightly.

"If I let you go will you get in the car with me? Will you run?" Sam asked softly, breath ghosting over Dean's ear.

"Yes. No." Damnit. It was too late to run, his heart, his soul, his guts were there on display, why run now?

Sam released Dean, stepped away and walked to his side of the car, which was open by the time he reached the door.

They sat in silence as Dean drove to the motel, but Dean's hands shook and he felt his breath heaving out of him as if he had just outrun a demon. He was terrified to look at Sam. Now he was afraid Sam was the one who was going to run. And he would have no right to follow him, no matter how much it hurt. Hell it would probably kill him this time.

When they got inside, Dean sat down on his own bed, head dropped forward, fight gone.

"Tell me, Dean. Tell me what you think about." Sam sat down next to Dean, close but not touching him in anyway.

"Not a question, Sam. And why don't you fucking stop with the torture? God, I know you want to fucking leave me now." His voice broke on the last word.

"Do you want me to leave, Dean?"

"No. God, no, Sammy. I'll beg you if you want me to. I'll do anything to keep you here. I will promise you never, ever to bring it all up again. I would never have done any of it anyway. I'm sorry, I never, never wanted you to know. I've kept it inside for…" He paused. Too much information.

But apparently he wasn't even allowed to keep that secret, "How long, Dean? How long have you thought about it?"

"Since before you left for Stanford. For about a year before." Dean visibly shrank in on himself, jerking when Sam's hand came to rest on his arm. Sam removed his hand.

They sat in silence for long, strained moments. Sam knew what he wanted. He wasn't going anywhere, hell, he was so close to getting everything he ever dreamed about, the last thing he was thinking was about leaving. But he was also selfish, and he wanted. He wanted what he knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't stop himself from asking.

"I'm not leaving, Dean. Not going anywhere. But you said you would do anything. I want you to tell me. Tell me what you think about, what you have fantasized about. You promised, and that's what I want."

Dean's eyes met Sam's pleadingly. "Why do you want to break me like that? Do you like being disgusted by me? Gonna throw it in my face. Fuck, Sam…this is painful. I said I was sorry…" His voice trailed off and he looked away, seeming to focus his attention inward, pulling away as much as possible from his brother.

Sam shook his head violently. "Damnit, Dean, what do you think of me that you think I would do that to you? Do you really think I want to hurt you? I'm not disgusted, or I wouldn't ask. But you promised and that's what I'm asking. I want you to tell me. I will NOT throw it in your face. Ever."

Dean shook visibly. This was so fucking hard. But Sam was right, he had said he would do anything, and he had meant it. He sat there for what felt like years, gathering his courage.

Then, looking over Sam's shoulder, focusing on nothing in particular Dean drew in a deep breath and just let it flow out of him. "I think about kissing you, Sammy. I think about licking your neck, sucking bruises down the side of your throat that tell everyone who sees them that you are mine. I think about seeing you laid out naked and waiting for me, wanting me. I think about tasting every inch of your skin. I think about running my hands over every fucking beautiful part of you. I think about what your cock looks like and imagine you wanting me, hard for me. I think about your huge hands on my body, how fucking much I want to know you want me enough to put your hands on me. I think about the noises you might make, how it would sound to hear you beg for me." He paused, still not looking at Sam.

Sam was panting, his breath hitching on each intake. He was tingling with need, desperate for more, to hear more, to know everything. And to make it all reality. His cock was so hard it hurt, was pressing against his jeans like it was going to burst through his zipper. He waited for Dean to continue, not wanting to break the flow of his train of thought, but desperate for him to go on.

Drawing a deep breath, Dean continued, "I think about sucking your cock, about taking it in my mouth and feeling it hot and hard and shoving down my throat. I think about being on my knees while you fuck my mouth, force me to take all of it. I think about you blowing me, about your pretty mouth taking me in, wanting to taste me too. I think about fingering your ass, about opening you up, working you until you beg me to fuck you, to bury my dick deep inside you. I think about fucking you until I'm all you can think about. I think about riding your cock, about how good it would feel to be filled with you, surrounding you, you pounding into me so I feel it for days. I think about you coming all over my stomach, all over me, about what your come would taste like, about licking it off you, about seeing my come on your lips."

Dean fell silent, and he looked smaller, totally vulnerable in a way Sam had never seen before.

They sat in silence for what felt like forever, both lost in thought. Sam pressed the heel of his hand to his cock. He was still so hard it hurt. And he was elated...to know that Dean wanted him, that he wasn't alone in his desire, well, it was overwhelming.

He shifted his eyes to Dean, who was still staring off into the distance, his jaw locked, his expression pained. "Who were you in love with, Dean?"

Dean opened his mouth to answer and suddenly realized he didn't feel compelled to say.

And just like that, it was over.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean glanced at Sam, his eyes hurt and angry, and guilty, damnit, before he pushed off the bed and went to the bathroom.

Sam sighed. He knew it was time to pay for what he had done. He felt guilt wash through him, knowing that the last few hours had hurt Dean. He wanted to go to the bathroom, beat on the door and force Dean to face what was just said, face how things are going to change because of this, but he knows now is not the time. Dean will need time to process this and deal in his own way before he can talk about it. Not that he is sure Dean will ever talk again after this.

Sam had been in his own bed for what seemed to have been a long time with no sound from the bathroom. He was starting to worry that something was seriously wrong, and ready to knock despite his resolution to give Dean time when he finally heard the shower start. He leaned back against the headboard and let everything he learned replay in his head, unable to resist the pool of yearning it created and yet quenched inside his belly. He would do guilt later.

Dean had slammed the bathroom door and locked it just in time to fall against the wall and slide down, jarring slightly when his ass hit the cold tile with a thud and his head dropped back to connect painfully with the wall behind him. Fuck. He felt so raw and exposed. Years and years of repressed feelings, wants, desires that he never expected to admit to had all been laid out in front of his brother in one horrifying moment.

God, his heart hurt. He was the worst big brother ever. No matter how hard he tried, he always fucked everything up. But Sam had promised he wouldn't leave, and he prayed that was the truth. He banged his head against the tile several more times, sat there grinding his teeth and regretting for a long time before he was strong enough to drag himself into the shower.

By the time Dean got out of the shower, Sam was in bed and the lights were out in the room. Thankful for the reprieve, Dean crossed to his bed, drew clean boxer briefs from his duffel and dropped into his bed, exhausted and worn.

Sam watched Dean with half slitted eyes as he came out of the bathroom and walked hesitantly around, obviously being quieter than usual in the hopes of not 'waking' Sam. He watched, as he always did when possible, as Dean dropped the towel and put on his underwear, enjoying the view and savoring for a moment the idea of what was to come, what they could now have. He sighed deeply as he hugged that knowledge to himself and drifted off to sleep.

After spilling so much, Dean was apparently finished talking, maybe forever. Sam couldn't remember being so fucking frustrated. Dean was communicating more in a series of grunts and monosyllabic barks than ever before, and God knew Dean was never exactly chatty. It was making him crazy. He had known it wouldn't be easy, but maybe he hadn't thought this whole thing through completely either.

"Dean?" Sam heard his own voice and winced at the whine he could detect there.

"Leave it, Sam." Dean didn't shift his eyes across the car, barely acknowledged Sam's presence. That was the usual the past few days. They had traveled, seemingly incessantly, and hunted, and life was the same, and yet so different underneath, and they both knew it.

It _was_ different, right? Despite the fact that nothing had really changed, just the words being out there had made all the difference in the world. Sam hadn't gotten to say his own words, however, and they were burning a hole inside of him. They had been there so long, but buried so deep, but Dean's had brought them close to the surface and now they were fighting to be out, and Sam was determined to make it happen. Not now, really. Not here in the car, but there was no other time to corner Dean lately, unfortunately, so he wasn't sure when…but right now, he would just be happy to talk about anything.

"Damnit Dean. You can't refuse to talk to me forever. Seriously? This is childish, even for you." Sam wanted to be understanding, patient, because he knew how hard the confessions had been on Dean, but shit, a limit maybe? At some point they had to communicate in some meaningful way again.

"If there is something important to talk about, Sam, let me know."

Wow, that felt like a breakthrough, Sam was pretty sure that was the longest sentence he had spoken in days. "Can we just get a room and stop for five minutes? You are exhausted, Dean. You look like shit. You're running on caffeine and sugar. It's gonna cause you to make a mistake, and you're gonna get hurt."

Dean wanted to scream. He needed to sleep, yeah, but the thought of being in a motel room, looking at Sam and knowing he was going to want to talk again? Yeah, not wanting that to happen, ever. He still felt like his insides were on the outside, they felt raw and exposed to the world. So many years of secrets, laid bare and ugly for Sam to see.

He was thankful, though, that Sam hadn't acted sick, disgusted. He had kept his promise not to rub Dean's face in all he had learned. No, Sam just took it all in stride, just accepted this other, demented part of his big brother like he did the rest. Hell, he probably had dissected it, laid it all out like pieces of that frog he had told Dean about from biology that time, and inspected each word individually before putting it all back together to make it work again in his mind.

But Sam was right, he was tired, mostly tired of thinking and feeling exposed. And although he wasn't worried about getting hurt, he did pause when he realized his mistake at any point could get Sam hurt. If that happened, he knew he couldn't live with himself. So it was time to stop. To open the floodgates on Sam's pretty, incessant mouth, and pay the piper for the things he was too mentally ill to stop himself from wanting all these years. Fuck.

Sam watched Dean thinking. He had watched Dean closely in these days, these 'since' days as he was calling them in his head. He felt like he was allowed to watch his big brother now, like he had gotten some unspoken permission. Besides, with Dean unable or unwilling to look directly at Sam, he was in no position to notice or complain what Sam did on his side of the car. So Sam saw when Dean realized that he was right, he needed a break, before he collapsed. Although, knowing Dean he was thinking more about Sam than himself, because heaven knew Dean refused to do anything to help himself.

Less than twenty minutes later, Dean tossed the room key to Sam as he drove to the back of the seedy looking motel.

Inside, Sam was happy to note that this place was at least a little less depressing, a little less dark and nightmarish than many of the places they stayed. It was totally out of date, yes, but at least it was a slightly brighter and out of date version.

Dropping his duffel on his bed, Sam collapsed forward and let out a long groan. It was nice to stretch out finally. Sleeping in the car, hell _riding_ in the car, was cramped for his long legs, and days of it with no real relief took a toll.

Dean watched out of the corner of his eye. Sam was like a lodestone. No matter how Dean tried not to be, he was drawn. Years of hiding were helpful, and the fear and pain of the night still fresh in his mind were definitely a factor, but he still couldn't look away, not completely. Sam was the center of his world, always had been, and Dean watched him, he just did.

But he was also very very good, after so many years, and when Sam turned his head toward Dean, he never even saw the look. He saw Dean looking across the room, lost in thought. The way he had seen him a million times. "You hungry?"

A grunt. Well, wasn't that an improvement. Sam grunted back. "Fine, I'm going to take a shower. I feel like these clothes have grown to my skin." And he drug himself to the bathroom, stretching his arms hard over his head, twisting his back as he went.

Movement tracked, strip of skin from waist to hip bones noted and appreciated. Dean cringed as he felt the bubble of heat burn through his belly. Damn, that was one of his favorite parts of Sam, and it never failed to move him, even now.

Nothing had changed, anyway. Sam knowing hadn't changed his want, his need, his fucking desire, no matter how wrong. It was there, just clawing to get out like it always was, and maybe it was a little more insistent now, now that he had said it all out loud. Maybe. Didn't wasn't going to leave Sam, couldn't.

He had lived his whole life with the little pieces of Sam he was allowed, and they had always kept him going. Never enough. Fuck, not even close, but more than the empty hollow feeling he had experienced and barely lived through when Sam had been at Stanford. He couldn't do that again. He had moved around, his body had functioned, but hell, he had felt less alive than some of the shit he hunted, had just gone through the motions, his heart cold and his mind shut down as much as possible. This he could live with, this he knew and understood. Sam gone, well, that wasn't any kind of acceptable.

So he would push it all down again, get it back into its place, and Sam would forget, or at least it would fade, with time. He grabbed the keys and went to find food.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam came out of the shower, feeling a million times better, and wanting to stand there in front of Dean, mostly naked and secretly watch, just see if it moved Dean. See if he could detect any want, desire in those deeper-than-anyone-else-knew green depths. Coming out and finding Dean gone caused a lurch in his stomach, acidic and burning, for a few long seconds before his brain kicked in and he noted that Dean's duffel was there, next to his bed.

Nothing missing but Dean and the keys. He had probably gone to get food. Sam hated when he did that, left without saying where he was going, without saying goodbye. Shit, what a girl. 'Do you need a love note with hearts above the 'i's', Sammy?' He could hear Dean's voice saying, but with no real heat, just the implication that Sam was needy, and Dean liked to tease him. It was how they moved around each other, how they knew it worked. Just a little thing they did, how they both masked their real feelings and hearts. It sufficed, it always had, because they couldn't let themselves think about more.

Until now. Now Sam promised himself it was just a matter of time. He knew Dean needed time to deal. But Sam had learned patience, he had practiced for enough years to wait. Neither of them was going anywhere. It was just a matter of time.

Returning with food, Dean pushed open the door to be greeted by a mostly naked Sam. Shit, he really hated him sometimes. He was laying on his bed, all six feet whatever of him, with just a pair of worn boxers covering about ten of those inches. At least he was on his stomach, facing the television, apparently flipping through channels; but even that long, lean, muscled expanse of back was enough to take Dean from zero to hard almost instantly. Dean registered all this in a matter of a few seconds, and looked away, not that the image wasn't burned into his brain, waiting to torment him later when he tried to will away his erection long enough to get to sleep.

Sam pushed into a sitting position and reached for the bag Dean held out. He fastened his gaze on Dean's eyes, but saw no acknowledgement of his state of dress, just regular Dean. As if he didn't notice at all. Hell, he probably didn't, it wasn't like they hadn't seen each other in the same and even less a million times. But he wanted to see the want. He was aching to see his own need reflected in those gorgeous heavy lashed eyes. Hmmm. New tack. He would need to push further. He would ponder that later.

Sitting cross legged on his bed, Sam dumped the salad, baked potato and chicken sandwich out onto the bed. He grinned to himself, he loved that Dean knew him so well, but had always taken it for granted. He knew Dean just as well, but somehow it warmed him to know that Dean held all that knowledge and cared enough to make sure Sam had what he wanted, always. Down to the right kind of dressing. Nice.

Dean watched the quick flash of dimple under damp shaggy hair and groaned inwardly. Awesome. Mostly naked, damp and dimpled Sam. That wasn't painful at all. Someone really hated him. There apparently wasn't enough torture in Dean's life to suit the gods. His skin felt too tight, tingled like it was going to come apart. He averted his eyes and attacked his own greasy burger and ketchup drowned fries.

Finishing his food and tossing the bag into the garbage can near the dresser, Dean silently headed for the bathroom. He was nasty, he could feel it all over himself, and he could smell Sam's fresh skin and that was about enough of that, thanks.

Standing under the hot stream, thankful for the strong water pressure, Dean realized that he was hard, again (or maybe it was still?). He hadn't jerked off in days. Since, well…since. And he stopped a moment to contemplate that. Guilt. Yeah, he knew he already felt bad enough for all the shit he had laid on Sam the other night, and the idea of jerking it thinking about him now had him pretty twisted up. He looked down at his erection and willed it into submission. He was also pretty sure Sam would be assuming that's what he was doing right now, and that freaked him out to think Sam was freaked out by him. What a fucking mess.

Sam sat on the edge of his bed, facing the television and waited for Dean to make an appearance. He was hard, his boxers tented from the thoughts he had been entertaining the whole time Dean was showering. Was Dean jacking himself thinking about Sam? Thinking about all those hot things he had told Sam he pictured whenever he did it? He hoped so.

He had been hard most of the time the last few days just thinking about all those things. Not that they were much different than what he had been picturing himself during his 'alone time' for years, but now he had the sound of Dean's whiskey sweet voice playing in his head saying all that shit. And damn if that wasn't hotter than anything he had ever experienced.

How long had Dean been in the bathroom? Did he have time to take care of it before he came out? Getting caught would be seriously embarrassing, but he was starting to hurt. Why hadn't he taken care of it in the bathroom himself earlier? Oh yeah, he had been hurrying to get back to Dean, to see if he could use his freshly showered body to get a reaction, and that hadn't worked. Missed opportunities all around. Not confident enough that he had time, Sam sighed and concentrated on willing his erection to just go away.

Dean opened the bathroom door and catalogued Sam's position in the room. He had to pass right in front of him to get to his duffel and his bed. Thank God he had spent time thinking about old men and dead kittens to get himself under control. Holding his towel with a fist at his hip, he passed Sam without a glance.

Sam didn't feel the same need to ignore, apparently, because Dean could feel Sam's eyes tracking his movements. He probably thought Dean was just going to snap and rape him or something. This was painfully awkward. Fuck it. "Chill the fuck out, Sam. I'm not going to ever act on any of that, ok? Shit. You don't have to watch me like I'm a rattler coiled for attack. Just fucking let it go. I have. I'm not going to think about that anymore. It was just a thing, whatever…"

Flinching as he turned and realized Sam was totally in his personal space, Dean gasped when Sam's hand fell to the back of his neck and he laid his lips against Dean's.

Dean jerked back as if burned, "What the fuck, Sam?"

Sam leaned toward him again, not willing to take a moment of surprise as a definite no. But Dean put his hand against Sam's chest. "No. Are you fucking kidding me? No." Dean sounded, well, he fucking sounded disgusted.

Thrown momentarily by the sound of that voice, Sam's forehead wrinkled. "Why not, Dean?"

He turned away, pulling his hand from that enticingly warm, soft flesh stretched over taut muscle. "Because no. Because you don't get to martyr yourself for me, Sam. I don't want your pity, or your empathetic bullshit. You don't get to do this for me."

Sam watched Dean's ass flex under the towel as Dean picked up his duffel and shoved past him, heading back toward the bathroom, and slamming the door behind him before the words really sank in.

"Open the door, Dean. What are you fucking talking about, man?" Sam knocked on the door. When he got no response, he jiggled the handle, then pounded.

"Fucking shut up, Sam. Just leave it. I'm not kidding. I'm not talking about this. Not now."

"Not ever, you mean? I know you, Dean. You would have never told me any of that shit without the truthspell and you know it. Now you don't get to shut yourself in the bathroom and hide like a fucking coward."

Sam knew how to push Dean's buttons, obviously, and the door flew open. "Why don't you know how to shut up, Sam?"

"Umm, I don't get to shut up because you never say a fucking thing, Dean. Damnit. I didn't kiss you…"

Dean cut Sam off, arm thrown up as if to avoid attack. "No. I don't want to talk about it, Sam. ...It. I am not going to talk about it. Don't want to hear any bullshit about why you tried to fucking KISS me, cuz seriously? Not ok. Not happening."

"We're gonna talk about it, man. We really are. I'm sick as shit of you and your secrets." Sam heard the words, and he knew they had come out of his mouth, he recognized his voice, after all, but he wanted to snatch them back. As if.

"Yeah, well. If you didn't want to hear the secrets, you shouldn'ta fucking forced them out of me. " Dean grabbed the keys off the nightstand and threw himself toward the door, but Sam was ready for that little avoidance maneuver, and slammed his palm against the door next to Dean's head.

Sam sighed, frustration and guilt and a lifetime of denial in the sound. "You know that's not what I meant, Dean. I meant I want you to talk to me. Just because you told me those things doesn't mean we're finished talking about it. I need to understand. We need to figure out where we stand."

Dean dropped his forehead to the door. "We stand where we always have. You knowing my deep dark twisted thoughts doesn't change anything. It's the same as it's always been. We just need to get past it. And neither of us need you doing stupid shit to try to appease me, or make me feel less like a perv or whatever that shit was about."

"Dean, sometimes I swear you want to hurt yourself, you want to take all this black shit and smear it on your soul. Why?" Sam leaned into Dean, letting his chest rest against his big brothers broad back, eyes drifting closed at the feel of all that muscle just beneath the layer of soft worn cotton. He breathed into Dean's ear. "Do you not remember I tried to kiss you before? Did you forget? Because I haven't. You can't call that appeasement, because it happened before you told me anything. But you can't let me take any blame, can you?"

Shivering from the feel of Sam, so close against him, that mouth so close to his ear he could practically feel it, Dean answered bitterly. "Whatever, Sam. Like that meant anything. You were so fucking drunk, you didn't know who I was, let alone what you were doing. You've always been a touchy drunk." It was one of the reasons Dean liked to get Sam drinking.

He loved how his baby brother would wrap his arms around him, or run his fingers through Dean's hair, or just lean against him when he was really out of it. But the kiss, that had scared Dean.

Of course he remembered.

He remembered with startling clarity how his stomach had launched itself right into his chest cavity, constricting his heart when Sam's lips had ghosted across his. He remembered that millisecond where he wanted nothing more than to lean in and take, to suck those sweet lips, to bite and nibble every inch, to lick into Sam's mouth and see if he tasted as incredible as he had dreamed. But he knew he couldn't do that. Sam would wake up the next morning and know that in his stupid drunken moment of too much affection Dean had taken things to a level they couldn't recover from. So, Dean had drawn back, every muscle in his body, every nerve screaming at him in protest, and he had tucked Sam into bed and spent all of two minutes in the bathroom thinking about it before he came, spilling across his own hand with Sammy's name on his lips.

Dean pushed hard, unbalancing Sam and jerking open the motel room door and stumbling out into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam waited, and then tried calling Dean's cell, and when he got no answer there, which was really unacceptable, he went looking for his brother. Dean was easy enough to find any time. A bar? Someplace nasty and full of nastier women? Yeah, that's where to look for Dean. His big brother was nothing if not predictable.

Finding him in the second of what appeared to be the only two dives in this crapass town, Sam clenched his fists. Not surprisingly, Dean's lap was practically full of one of those nastier women. She was pressed half against and half over Dean and Sam felt a burn deep in his gut, feelings of pure rage washing through him.

Both Dean and the whore, as Sam subconsciously decided to refer to her, appeared too drunk to make good on the promises they were undoubtedly making. Sam was next to Dean in a few short strides, once again pressing close, this time his lips brushing directly against Dean's ear as he ground out. "You fucking dump that bitch out of your lap and leave here with me now, or I will make a scene, man. Don't doubt it for one second. You think I won't, then try me."

Dean focused immediately on his brother, everything he had been trying to block out surfacing and sobering him more than he liked. His body had reacted more to that brush of lips against his ear, that breath on his neck, than he had to the slow grind this girl had been doing against him for the last half hour. Damnit but Sam had too much power over him, too much.

"Sorry, sweetheart." He pushed her away gently but abruptly and stood from the booth, unable to remember her name, or maybe he hadn't asked? "Gonna have to take a raincheck on this one. Next time maybe? Looks like a family emergency." He shrugged and turned, not looking to see if Sam followed.

Sam leaned in close to her and hissed, just loud enough for her to hear, but a wealth of venom in his voice, "He's mine, darling, all mine. And you can't imagine how fucking good it is. Trust me, there won't be any raincheck." And after seeing the shock and anger on her face, he laughed and followed his brother out the door.

Almost surprised Dean hadn't left him there, Sam held out his hand for the keys as he reached the Impala. Dean wasn't stupid enough to fight him over driving right now, obviously, and handed them over without a glance, just moved to get in on the passenger side.

The anger rolling off Sam was scorching, and Dean wasn't sure if it was his whiskey addled brain or just general confusion, but he wasn't sure he knew precisely why Sam was this mad.

Actually, he wasn't that drunk. He felt fairly sober, unfortunately. He had been distracted enough not to drink as much as he had gone in intending to, and had been trying desperately to focus on finding enough interest to take that girl home to the detriment of getting as drunk as Sam thought he was.

"So, were you planning to actually fuck that girl, Dean?" Sam was practically yelling and Dean spared a thought to how many people might be in the motel that could hear him.

"Sure." Dean smirked at him.

Sam ran a hand through his already disheveled hair and turned with a growl.

"Why not?" Dean tried to sound convincingly unconcerned.

Sam's face was red, mottled with color, and his eyes blazed as he rounded on Dean. "Why? Why are you so willing to give yourself to anyone with a pulse, except me? Protect stupid, innocent Sammy. He's too dumb to know what he wants, and good enough to take care of, but not good enough to love."

Dean shrank away from the tone, "You know I love you, Sam. That's not even fair. You think because I have those sick thoughts I don't love you? Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. I won't hurt you by acting on them, but I've never not loved you."

"Then why am I not as good as she is? That girl that I would bet you don't even know her name. "

"Not as good?" Dean barked out a laugh, it was harsh and grating and neither of them believed it for a second. "Sam, she is nothing. Nothing. You are…you're everything. You're everything that's good in my life, everything I ever cared enough to try to do right."

"Then touch me like that, Dean." Sam whispered, stepping close to his big brother, breathing in the smell that he knew so well, the smell that meant safety and happiness and lust and love and home. The only home he ever knew existed inside Dean.

"Sam?" Dean sounded so young, so vulnerable, so uncertain. Sam looked at him. He looked scared. And he stood rooted to the spot, as if unsure what he should do. Dean was never unsure of anything.

"You know, you told me." Sam said quietly. "You told me all those things. And I know you are angry that I forced so much of that out of you. I also need you to know that when I said I wanted to know what you thought about, when…you know…I wasn't saying it was a term for me staying. I wouldn't have left anyway. You need to know that." Sam paused, and hoped it sunk in, that Dean believed him. He turned and sat down on the end of his bed and watched his brother stand there, hands clenched, muscles tight.

"I'm sorry I forced you to tell me stuff you didn't want to share. Well, that's a lie, really. I wanted and needed to know, and I'm not sorry it's finally out there. But I also think you should get a turn, Dean. I won't lie. I want you to ask me. Ask me anything, and I will tell you."

Dean sat on his own bed, half turned toward Sam. "I don't want to know anything, Sam. I just want to forget that I said anything, want you to forget."

"Well, I need to tell you, Dean. So how bout you just listen, you don't have to talk?" Sam wasn't nearly as ready as he thought he was as he watched Dean try to keep himself together, try not to escape again.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam looked at Dean, who was holding himself so tightly he was vibrating with tension. But he sat, and Sam knew he at least had his attention, if not his gaze. Drawing a deep breath, Sam decided to forge ahead. Nothing else to do.

"I have wanted you…this…us for years. So many years. It wasn't even a thing I really was consciously aware of at first, it was just you…you have always been there, something to admire and love and want and need. I didn't think about it being wrong or weird, just knew that you were everything to me, just like you always had been, only all these other feelings were seeping in, merging with everything else." He paused, looking at Dean, who was now staring at him, no expression on his face. Sam tried looking into those clear green eyes to figure out what he was thinking, but…nothing. No clue.

Dean felt like he had been punched in the gut, repeatedly. To hear Sam saying these things, to hear that maybe he felt the same as Dean did, or well, that was too much to ask for, but that maybe he felt something close. It was almost too much to take. For a moment, he sat there and let himself believe, hope just a little. His life had always been about doing for someone else, and he was good with that. He wasn't sure he deserved more than to take care of others. But he couldn't deny that his heart was beating as if it would leap from his chest given the opportunity.

Damn but he loved Sam, so fucking much it hurt sometimes, wanted everything that Sam was, from his geeky research boy side to that vulnerable unsure of himself sensuality, to the strong, knowledgeable hunter he had become. But this was too much, too good to be true…it always was for Dean. No one wanted Dean, sure lots of people wanted the pretty face and what he could give them in bed, but no one had ever wanted to know him, to actually be with him, just him. Certainly no one who had as much to offer as Sammy. Was there anyone who had as much to offer as Sammy?

Sam couldn't get a read on Dean's thoughts, so he sighed and continued. "You were always with some girl, someone who wasn't ever good enough. They have never been enough, Dean, why don't you get that? You have always sold yourself short. Anyway, I hated them. All of them. And maybe I would have hated you to, at some point, because you never saw me, but hating you wasn't something I had in me. When my body changed, and other people started to look at me, look at me like I was desirable, I thought 'finally, now he will see me, see that I could be something to him.' But you never did. I was still just 'little Sammy', someone to be taken care of, watched over, but never wanted. At first I thought I was gay. I thought I would find you, I guess. Find a version of you that would want me. But, despite trying I couldn't get any interest in guys. Girls were more intriguing and of course I tried that, too, which worked better for me. But it never really worked, it was always just…I dunno, incomplete? Unsatisfying. I've always known it was you. It needed to be you, to truly make me happy and feel right."

Dean was staring at him, the tension in his body almost palpable in the room. But he was so damned unreadable, so closed off, Sam wanted to shake him, knock his feelings out of him with his fists, anything. He wished he had that truthspell back.

"I did this to you." Dean finally said, his voice sure but quiet, and his eyes slid away.

"What?" Sam seriously wanted to shake his big brother, wanted to beat some sense into him.

Dean's heart hurt. To come so close to having what he wanted, only to realize that not only was that ridiculously not possible, not for him, but to have it clearly laid out before you that it was your fault the most important person in your life was fucked up because of you, well, it was too much. Just too fucking much to handle. He needed to escape, escape Sam and all these words, all this talking.

It was like he was coming apart, and he needed to get away. But Sam would come looking for him. Sam would talk him to death some more, slice him apart with those words that he believed, no matter that Dean knew they were just sick extensions of his own desires.

"No more. Please, Sam. I can't. I can't do this right now." Dean was up off the bed, his back to Sam. His body was taut, lines tight and prepared for a fight.

"Fuck Dean. Just…fuck, man, you are…you are impossible." Sam felt defeated. But he wouldn't give up, not now, hell, not ever. It might not be the time for it, but he would make Dean realize, soon.

Dean laughed, no humor in the sound. "Can we just get out of here, please? Just go get a drink, not talk for now?"

Not sure that drinking was going to solve anything, but certain that now wasn't the time to push Dean, Sam just let out a defeated sigh and agreed. Getting Dean drunk was sometimes the best way to get what he wanted.

Drunk enough, Dean would put up with a lot of Sam's touching and physical demonstrative gestures.

And then, a tiny frisson of hope bubbled up in him, and suddenly the idea of a bar, and drinking seemed like a pretty damn good idea.

Frowning as he pulled his phone from his pocket, Sam looked down at it. Dean was in another booth, with another whore and appeared to be engrossed. Since when did he even know how to text anyway? Dean?

Maybe 'grinding girl' had accidentally pressed a button with her wandering fingers. Whatever. He flipped the phone open and felt hot desire shoot through his gut.

_**what the fuck are you doin sam?**_

Sam's eyes flickered to his brother, who was facing him in the booth, eyes dark and narrowed, focused on him over the shoulder of the girl, like they were the only two people in the room.

It was too far away, but he felt like he could see the green burning into him. Dean looked mean, mean the way Dean looked on a hunt where Sam or their Dad got hurt. The heat burned a little brighter, a little deeper in Sam's belly, and his muscles contracted like he had been touched intimately.

Determined to see this plan through, Sam raised a brow as if unsure what Dean meant and flipped his phone closed without answering and turned his attention back to the guy in front of him. The guy practically pressing him into the wall of the dimly lit bar.

He wondered suddenly if he would do it, how far he would take it to see if he could make Dean break, if that was even possible. He wasn't sure if Dean would care, although the text had made him think it was more plausible, but who knew what Dean thought, ever.

"Everything ok?" Jordan asked, fingers skimming Sam's wrist as he returned his phone to his jean pocket.

Sam smiled at him, lowering his head and grinning lopsidedly up through the tangle of his bangs. A blush staining his cheeks slightly. Let Jordan think it was for him, let him eat it up. Whatever it took. Push push push. If Dean wanted him, surely he wouldn't let this happen.

Amber. He remembered her name, and Dean was proud of himself. But mostly he wanted to tell Amber to leave off, it's not like he was able to focus on anything she was saying or doing anyway. Not with Sammy, _his_ fucking Sammy, being fucked into the wall by pretty boy across the room. Dean thought he could almost smell his brain frying. He wanted to press a fist to his abdomen to relieve the pain roiling there. Sam looked like he was enjoying it, damn him.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. That fucking asshole had just run his fingers over Sam's wrist, over that soft skin where his pulse would be evident. Was it racing as he imagined what was to come? Was Sam excited, hard as he stood there being touched by that guy? And then Sam gave the guy that look. That look that had almost brought Dean to his knees so many times, and the pain surged through him, spreading from his belly through to his heart, his aching, bloody heart. How much more was he supposed to endure? How much more _could_ he endure?

And then the answer was crystal clear. When that fucking freak reached up and wound his fingers in Sam's hair, stroking like he had a fucking right, that hair that smelled like Sammy, like innocence and love and home and everything that meant anything to Dean, he knew that was how much he could endure. He was free of the arms encircling him and across the room before he knew what was happening.

Pulling those fingers out of Sam's hair and twisting them hard and wrenching the guy's arm behind his back, Dean growled. He twisted harder, wanting to take that feeling out of those fingers, didn't want this piece of shit to remember something that couldn't belong to him, that he should never have taken. "Don't ever touch him. Never. Do you understand me? You fucking want to keep these fingers? Want to be able to use this hand again?"

Jordan was gasping, back bowed. "Y..yes." He wasn't sure what was going on, but knew he would to tell this guy whatever he needed to.

Dean grunted, jerking Jordan's arm just a little higher up his back, fingers twisted in his fist. "Then when I let you go, you better fucking leave here and never, ever look back. Don't you even look at Sam again, got it?"

At the jerky nod, Dean released Jordan's fingers and arm, and watched as he ducked his head and fled the bar like it was on fire, never raising his eyes to Sam's or anyone else's on his way out.

Sam knew at that moment he had him. Knew that somehow they would make this work. His heart was pounding frantically and the heat that pooled inside of him was a rush like he had never known. Dean, controlled, hunter Dean was jealous, over him. Not just jealous, but fucking lose your mind, ready to seriously hurt someone jealous, and Sam felt his knees weaken, waver under him momentarily.

Not even disguising the flame burning in his green eyes, Dean looked at Sam across the eighteen inches that separated their faces. "Car. Now, Sam."

Sam literally steadied himself with a hand against the wall for a few seconds as he drank in the look Dean gave him before turning and walking on shaking legs to the car, feeling Dean close behind him, body heat arcing across the small distance and burning into Sam.


	7. Chapter 7

They stood, facing each other, both in a defensive stance, almost circling like they did when they trained, wrestled and tested each other to stay sharp, hone their skills. It was a scenario they knew, understood, were comfortable with, unlike the underlying tension now sizzling between them.

Sam wasn't going to let it go, he was too close to the prize. Too close to happiness. Hell, it was standing there before him and all he needed was to pull down that last barrier to find the light behind the wall, the beautiful perfection he knew lay inside his brother. "Dean. I want you, want us. I know you want it too, why can't you let us be happy? I want this. You didn't put this in me…its part of who I am and you can't take credit for it."

"I…I know you believe what you are saying. But it's my fault. You have always just followed my lead. You had to have developed these delusions because of me, you had to see it somehow and just assume it was normal, and took it for your own, but it came from my sick, twisted heart, and I won't let you think it was your idea." Dean sounded so raw, so wrecked and broken, and Sam wanted to hold him so badly, to give back some of the comfort that had been Dean for him his whole life.

Fuck you. Sam wanted to yell. Fuck you for not trusting or believing that I have a mind of my own. That I have never known my own heart. Then something occurred to him. And hope rushed through him like a waterfall.

"Twelve." Sam said simply.

Dean's forehead wrinkled, head cocked to the side. "What?"

"I was twelve, almost thirteen when it started." He just waited. Waited for Dean's stubborn, self-sacrificing, perfectly gorgeous ass to catch up, realize what that meant.

Three. Four. Five. Something washed over Dean's face, a dawning, understanding, and he looked at Sam with hope and yet still that fucking reservation, uncertainty. "No. You had just turned seventeen Sam. Shit, I'm not that sick. You were a baby at twelve, all arms and legs and looking like a praying mantis, falling over your own feet and…" His voice trailed off and Sam could see that he still wasn't letting himself accept.

Sam sighed, banked frustration in his every gesture as he moved close, his hand coming up to rest on the back of Dean's neck, looking into his eyes. "Uhh, hello? I'm talking about me. I have a mind of my own. I remember watching you damned near every minute; watched you come out of the shower, watched how you moved, saw you kissing girls, unaware that I was looking.

"I was thinking about you every time I jerked off, and it started when I was twelve. That's when I first wanted you, Dean. When I first realized you were it for me. I just never thought you would want me, too. Hell I went all the way to Stanford, all the way to a relationship I was never truly invested in to escape that unanswered need."

The third time Sam tried to kiss Dean, everything shifted. He brushed his lips across those full, tempting lips, tongue darting out to taste. Dean sighed, the fight going out of his body like air from a punctured balloon. His eyes opened as Sam drew back slightly and rested his forehead against Dean's.

Dean's tongue came out to swipe along his lower lip, tasting the lick Sam had laid there, tasting Sammy. Sam tasted like sunshine and rain heat and mint and like everything Dean needed to sooth his soul. Just like he thought he would, like he smelled, only better, if that was possible. Just that one real taste, and Dean was pretty sure he was done for…would never be able to go back.

Sam groaned softly as he watched that tongue track across that lip he had just tasted. Damn but everything Dean did made him weak. "Dean, damnit Dean, I want you so bad, it's eating me up inside."

"Sammy." His name was full of hope, like a shout contained in a whisper. And Dean accepted finally that Sam was in this for his own reasons, and he could love him without fear and guilt. It was enough to stagger him. His arms were suddenly full of Sam. His little brother who had somehow become a man, a man with everything to offer and Dean sent up a little prayer of thanks that this beautiful man wanted him, all of him, knew his shortcomings and his lack of perfection and still wanted to be with him.

Wrapping his fingers in too long, shaggy hair, Dean squeezed and sifted, reveling in this tiny thing that was huge to him. He had what could only be called an obsession with Sam's hair, and clutching his hands in it made him soul searingly happy.

Sam leaned into the caress, happy to have Dean's hands on him in any way. He raised his own hands to Dean's waistband, fingers brushing just inside the top of the denim resting at his hips, stroking soft, warm skin there.

Fingers trailing from his hair down the back of his neck to his jawline, Dean watched Sam's face as he soaked in the caress, eyes closed and breath a long sigh. Dean leaned in and pressed his lips tentatively to Sam's, silently asking for permission.

Sam opened immediately, tongue darting out to meet his brother's questing one. It only took a moment for the kiss to turn needy and desperate, too many years, too many pent up frustrating years between them. Their mouths slanted and searched, drawing out the flavor of each other, the feel of tongue and lip and teeth almost too much, but still not enough.

Sam keened quietly, pressing his body as tightly as possible to his big brother's slightly shorter frame. He tried to get his breathing under control as he felt the whole of Dean laid against him from chest to thigh.

Drinking in that moan from Sam's mouth, Dean kissed Sam once more, licking the taste of his brother from Sam's tongue and sucking at that tongue until he was rewarded with another small moan, then moved his mouth down to Sam's jaw kissing and nipping along that strong ridge before dipping down to his throat.

Dean felt so overwhelmed he was afraid his heart was going to explode from his chest. How does a lifetime of something you never expected but always wanted suddenly come true? It doesn't in Dean Winchester's life. He's so terrified he is going to wake up and it's going to be a dream, just another dream of what he should never want, can never have. Well, until he does wake up…

He kissed Sam's neck softly, licking that long expanse of tan, slightly sweaty flesh, feeling Sam's own erratic heartbeat under his tongue. Sam stretched his neck, giving Dean all of it, wanting to feel those lips coasting over every tendon, then gasped when Dean bit, then sucked hard enough to leave a bruise. So he leaned into that too.

Sam's hands were rubbing over Dean's lower back, dipping into his pants to cover the edges of muscled ass, sliding to jutting hipbones, tight abdomen. He wants touch it all at once, but even more he wants to memorize every moment, every inch of skin he worships.

Dean had always been the epitome of sex to Sam. Hell, to other people too, but Sam won't think of that now, for this moment Dean is his, and he intends to savor every second and try his damnedest to see that Dean never wants anyone else again.

Then they are moving together as if the suggestion were made aloud, though it hadn't been. They are backing toward the bed, hands and lips and tongues never pausing. Sam's knees hit the side of the bed, and he sank onto it, holding Dean tight to the sinew of his throat where he was latched on, pulling his brother on top of him on the bed.

Dean's eyes opened suddenly and a shimmer of uncertainty glinted there. Sam loosened his hold on Dean enough to let his big brother sit up on the bed, eyes still locked together, hands still skimming over bodies. When Dean was upright, Sam moved to him, throwing one leg over his lap and leaning in to kiss and taste those lips again when he feels Dean relax back into the situation. No pressure on Sam, make sure his options are open.

The feel of Sam's weight pressing him into the bed, his hard, huge cock coming to rest next to his own, even through their jeans, as Sam settled on him had the tension going right back out of Dean's frame. He slid his fingers under Sam's shirt, skimming that soft, muscled skin he yearned to discover, fingers greedily exploring finally, again imagining the taste, how it would feel to put his tongue there.

Sam was suddenly pulling Dean's shirt up, and Dean leaned back, letting him remove the soft cotton before tugging his little brother's off him as well. Their eyes met for a few long seconds as they leaned in to each other, both moaning deep inside, bodies shuddering, as hot skin finally met hot skin. Both lost in sensations they had craved in their private moments, now shared.

They ran frantic hands over each other, tracing scars they knew too well, savoring the feel of skin they were just discovering, digging into muscle and sinew, fingers brushing and testing.

"God, Sam. Do you know how I burn for you?"

a/n: I know many people are gonna want to yell at me for cutting it here, but this chapter got all out of control huge. So…I promise not to make you wait long at all for the next chapter! Please let me know what you think! =}


	8. Chapter 8

Sam's stomach lurched sweetly at those words and he pushed Dean onto his back, then leaned to taste the expanse of skin now exposed to his gaze and touch. Dean's body was gorgeous, not that Sam didn't know that, but to have access to it was like being given the most precious gift imaginable.

He licked a long swath down his big brother's neck, pausing to dip his tongue into the dip at the base, feeling the erratic heartbeat against his tongue before moving to run teeth along his clavicle, biting just enough to draw sharp little gasps from Dean's throat. Running his hands up and down the muscles along Dean's ribs and abdomen, Sam tongued his way down that beautiful frame, biting softly at his nipples before making his way to the dip of his belly button. He opened his mouth and laid it over that little indent, dipping his tongue in and feeling Dean's muscles clench and his soft keen.

Fuck, Sam was gonna kill him with this little exploration. Dean wrapped his hands in Sam's hair and held on, trying to keep control when he felt like he was going to come just from the feel of that gorgeous wet mouth tracking down his body. Oh God, that feeling of Sam's tongue in his navel, shit, how was that one of the most incredible sensations of his life? He heard the noises he was making and couldn't even bring himself to care, just threw back his head and lost himself in sensation. He vaguely realized Sam was removing his jeans and underwear as he continued to dart his tongue in and around his bellybutton, and raised his hips for their removal.

Sam smiled against the skin of Dean's hard stomach, tongue dancing across hipbones and all the tight, sweat laden skin in between before his tongue came out to trace Dean's hard cock from base to head, pausing to lick at the bead of precome gathered at the slit before engulfing him in one long swipe.

"Ohmygodsammy." Dean's body shot up to a half incline at that encompassing sensation. He felt his cock hit the back of Sam's throat and he clenched his teeth to keep from losing it from the sight and feel of his Sam taking him all in like that, eyes closed like he was relishing the moment, like it felt as good to him as it did to Dean.

Sam swallowed convulsively several times, sucking and laving at the hard length, felt the tremors in Dean's body. Then, taking Dean deeper before slowly sliding him up and out of his mouth, Sam drew his mouth away. As much as he wanted to savor the feel and flavor of Dean losing control down his throat and in his mouth, he wanted to watch as Dean lost control. He wanted them joined together when it happened that first time.

Pulling Sam up his body, Dean gulped in air and got himself as under control as possible considering the images swimming against his closed eyelids. He opened his eyes to look into hazel eyes full of so many emotions he couldn't sort them all out as Sam leaned in to kiss him. Dean could taste the combination of himself and Sam in his brother's mouth and he ate at it, wanting all Sam could give.

"Do you even realize how beautiful you are, Sam?" He said, looking down at the face and long body that he longed for.

Sam flushed, "You're beautiful, Dean. So damned beautiful, inside and out."

Smiling almost shyly and reversing their positions, Dean laid his hands on either side of Sam's face, kissing him almost desperately before moving down his neck, drawing again and deepening on the slight bruise he had already created on Sam's neck. He knew he wouldn't be able to take his eyes off that mark tomorrow, no matter where they were or who was nearby. It would say that at least for tonight, Sam had belonged to him, had given himself completely.

Dean proceeded to lavish the same attention on Sam's lean muscled length that he had just experienced. He marveled at the beauty laid before him, beneath him, beauty he felt unworthy of but was unable to deny wanting any longer. He licked the ridges of muscle along Sam's ribs and sides, pausing to nibble and suck at his hard nipples before biting harshly at the hipbones and muscles that slanted in toward the part of Sam Dean had dreamt about for so long. He sucked another hard bruise into the soft skin inside the hipbone he had just bitten, licking away the sting afterward.

"Dean."

Fingers trembling slightly, though he would never admit it, Dean loosened and removed Sam's belt before undoing the button and zipper of his jeans. Taking a deep breath and glancing up to see Sam watching him, heart and lust rivaling for dominance in his eyes, Dean drug the denim and cotton underneath from Sam's hips to reveal his weeping steel hard cock.

Eyes locked together, Sam whimpered softly, "Please, Dean. Please?"

"Yeah, Sam. I'll take care of you baby boy."

Sam keened at the endearment and Dean smiled softly. "You like that? Huh? You like being my baby boy? Because you are, you know." Sam panted softly, watching those lips forming the words, wet, juicy lips that were less than an inch from his cock. "I want to feel you in my mouth, taste you, suck you."

And he did, Dean leaned forward and ran his tongue in a circle along the head of Sam's dick, gathering the salty, musky taste that was just another flavor that was Sam and felt perfect on Dean's questing tongue. Then he sucked at the head softly, pressure building as he sucked harder and took in more, slowly moving down until Sam bottomed out into his throat and Dean fought not to gag reflexively. It felt exactly right and he marveled at that for a moment.

As much as he had wanted this and hell gotten off thinking about it, he had still never imagined it would feel so natural, so right. But it did, and he thought he could happily do this for hours, tasting Sam, making him writhe like this under his hands and mouth. He gripped Sam's hips tight to keep him from coming off the bed. He could feel how close Sam was, and he relaxed his mouth somewhat, letting off on the pressure, looking up again to catch Sam's lust hazed eyes.

Sam groaned, the sound torn from his throat as his brother looked up at him from under thick lash framed eyes. "Dean, I want…unhh…I want to feel you inside me. Please, Dean…"

Smiling softly, pupils blown wide from his own deep seated desire, Dean shook his head jerkily and Sam felt a rush of hot fear flow through him. Dean was gonna back out now? What? Please no.

Pressing a hand to the taut muscle of his abdomen when Sam tried to surge upward, Dean held him firm.

Protests on his lips, Sam was ready to reassure yet again, or beg if he had to. He needed this, all of it, to know he truly had his brother, had him fully invested in this, in them. Sam whined.

"Not this first time, Sammy. I want you inside me, at least this first time. I need it that way, baby boy, please just…please."

And Sam knew. Dean still needed to know, to be reassured that Sam wanted this and wouldn't feel pressured, wouldn't be out of control. He wanted to give Sam the opportunity for an out, couldn't live with the first time being him 'taking' Sam….for him to feel comfortable, Sam would have to be the taker.

Dean the protector was still the heart of his brother, the core, and Sam was his charge, the one who would always be his to watch over. God, how could anyone be better than Dean? He was so perfect to Sam, and Sam had every intention of spending his life letting him know.

"Dean, God Dean, come here, please. Do you know what you do to me? Come here, then and let me…" Sam tugged as Dean moved up his body once more, sliding skin against overheated skin. Kissing his brother before squirming out from beneath him to root in his duffel, Dean watched with brows drawn to see what Sam was looking for, and felt a moment of jealousy when he came up with a bottle of lube with a triumphant look.

Sam saw the look and hurried to reassure and sooth. "I bought this yesterday, Dean. Never been opened. I was hoping…well, I was pretty sure you would eventually cave, once I knew you wanted me too. After all, you've never really told me no…" Sam blushed, head ducking as he came back over his brother, laid all that skin back over his brother's and brushed an open mouthed kiss along his pliant mouth.

"Were you going to go home with that guy, Sammy?" Dean's voice was so soft in the room it was little more than a breath, but Sam heard.

He licked Dean's lip, bit it just shy of breaking skin, "You. Only you, Dean. No, I wasn't going to go home with him. I just wanted to make you acknowledge that you wanted me. Knew that if you really did you couldn't bear to see someone else take me home. Know that they were going to touch me and fuck me and…"

Dean growled, surging up to grasp the back of Sam's head, draw him down for a fierce, lip crushing, tongue sucking kiss. Just hearing Sam say those things made him feel so mean, so fucking out of control. "Damnit, Sam, stop. Not him, me. I feel like I'm on fire for you. Come on, baby, do it. Fuck me."

With those words, Dean let his legs fall open, knew somewhere in the back of his mind he should feel exposed, embarrassed at this pose, but how could he feel anything but right; here, with Sam, especially with those eyes looking down at him, that hero worship that he had always seen in Sam's vulnerable moments, even now that Sam was a grown man. He just felt urgency, desire, need and a feeling that finally things were going to be right, complete.

Sam popped the top of the lube, gaze falling to Dean's groin, feeling the breath forcing in and out of his lungs as he realized that this was the moment. Dean was going to truly be his, only his. His heart hurt and the churning in his stomach was hot and desperate. He slicked up two of his fingers and leaned back on his heels, pressing a finger into the crease of Dean's ass, and then sliding the tip of his finger inside.

"Oh God, so tight, hot." Sam looked up to gauge the effect on Dean, to make sure it was ok before he pressed any further. Dean looked like it felt good, like he was surprised that it did, but it did nonetheless. Sam pressed his finger in completely, and Dean gasped and clenched around him.

"Ahh," Dean's voice ghosted out softly. It felt good. He wasn't sure about much more than this, but this felt good. "More. Do it."

Sam pressed another finger in steadily and slowly, watching his fingers disappear into his brother, unable to deny how badly he wanted to feel his cock clenched this tightly. This was even hotter than he imagined, seeing Dean take it like this, press into it like he wanted it. His cock twitched and he felt pre come dribble down his length.

Dean forced himself to relax when it burned, felt too tight, too full. He knew it was going to be tough, at least this first time, especially with as big as Sam was. Shit, if he didn't know better he would say it was impossible. But he knew better and felt himself start to respond to the feel as Sam worked his fingers into him, then pulled out and pressed back in, developing a rhythm and stretching him as he went. His cock wasn't unsure, it was still so hard it hurt. He could feel his heartbeat there, rapid and hard.

"Come on, Sammy. I'm ready. Do it, wanna feel you inside me." He panted out finally, and he realized he meant it. Despite his slight fear of the unknown, he was ready, wanted this, now.

Sam moved forward, slicking his length with lube before pulling Dean's thighs onto his own. He looked into Dean's stunning face as he pressed in, jaw clenched as he struggled for control. Once he was just inside, he paused, unable to believe the feel of that tight heat around his cock head, but needing to see that Dean was alright and not hurting before he could go any further.

It burned, it was almost too much, but somehow the burn was already fading and Dean needed for Sam to move, to press in, needed to feel all of him. So he bucked his hips forward, forcing himself down onto Sam, embedding more of Sam into himself. Sam grunted, the pleasure almost painful in its intensity.

"Oh holy fuck, Dean, you feel so fucking good." He pressed further, flowing into his brother's body until he was seated deep, as deep as possible.

Dean squirmed slightly, adjusting to the pressure and the fullness. Then he pushed against Sam and wrapped his legs around that lean waist, pressing and pushing and convincing Sam to move. He didn't need much incentive. Sam drew out slowly and then bottomed out quickly again, this time brushing against that sensitive bundle of nerves inside Dean and his body jerked, back bowing hard. "Like that, Sam, fucking do that again. Again."

Moving deep and steadily, Sam found a rhythm that worked Dean almost continually, causing him to shudder and begin bucking hard up onto his little brother, needing more, so close to coming without ever being touched. Sam was shaking from holding back at this point. Dean's face was blissed out, and he was clenching around him so tightly Sam was losing his mind.

Finally Dean keened out a sound that was a groan and 'Sammy' all in one, pulsing out his release across both of their stomachs, and the pressure around his dick caused Sam to pump into him several times as hard as possible and then spill, hot and deep inside Dean's tight body, Dean's name torn from him as he collapsed onto him. He lay there, heart pounding into Dean's, breath ragged for several minutes before rolling them to their sides, still connected deep and intimate.

a/n: so here it is finally! Hope it makes everyone happy…just one little chapter left now and we're finished…*sigh*


	9. Chapter 9

They lay there, lost in sensation, world reduced to a hazy cocoon of clumsy caresses in hair and on skin as they came slowly back to reality.

"I love you, Dean. Always have. You know that right?" Sam murmured when they started to gain conscious awareness long minutes later.

Dean glanced at his baby brother, heart in his eyes. Sam had never seen him so open, so laid bare, even during the time when he had been forced to tell the truth. This was freely given and it was breathtakingly beautiful. He smiled and Sam's breath was indeed taken. "You too, Sam. I love you. Damn I love you so much."

"And I don't want you calling this sick or twisted or even wrong, cuz it isn't. It's just us, and no one else has to understand it. It's right for us." Hazel eyes bore into green, demanding understanding and acceptance.

Dean smiled softly, a quick nod of his head. This didn't feel wrong, damn, it felt like the pieces of himself had shifted into place, weren't grinding against each other uncomfortably for the first time. Sam felt exactly right there with him as well, as if he were that one piece that made all of Dean work, function.

If he hadn't had a lifetime to study and memorize every detail of his brother he might have missed the moment of fear that suddenly flashed in Dean's emerald eyes, but he did, and he knew what it meant. "I'm not going anywhere Dean. This is where I want to be, with you, wherever that is. This is where I've always wanted to be."

Dean clenched his eyes at the tears that gathered from the rush of relief he felt at hearing those words. "Promise Sam? Promise that you really don't want, need something else? Don't stay with me because you feel obligated or whatever. But don't promise if you don't mean it."

"I mean it." Sam stroked Dean's cheekbone softly, willing Dean to see how true the words were. "Promise."

Drinking in the peace that had settled in his heart, hardly able to recognize it, Dean brushed his thumb over Sam's bottom lip. "You."

"Me?" Sam's tongue darted out to touch that finger.

"Your last question. You are the only person I've ever been in love with."

"Oh God, Dean." Sam sighed and laid his head on Dean's chest, unable to think straight, listening to the heartbeat there.

For what could have been minutes or hours or an eternity they just lay there, both lost in the reality of this, this everything that they were engulfed in. Dean eventually brushed Sam's damp hair from his forehead, only to have it settle back in almost the same disheveled heap as before, and leaned in and kissed Sam, tongue seeking and finding instant entry. They licked and nipped at each other languidly, until the weight of desire seeped into them both again and they pressed close, hands moving to hips, to taut buttocks, they fitted together as if they had done this all their lives.

Dean pressed his thigh between his younger brother's and rocked slightly.

"Mmmm," Sam felt the tingle of the movement through his body immediately. "He was doing that…"

Tensing, Dean leaned back enough to look into Sam's face. He was pretty sure he knew what his brother meant, but, "Who? Doing what?"

Sam closed his eyes and rocked back, trying to get Dean to move again. "Jordan. He was…."

Dean cut him off with a growl, his stomach dropping out, hands clenching on Sam's hips to still the movement. "Stop it, Sam. Was he really?"

"Maybe a little." Small grin, eyes still almost completely closed. He wasn't sure he wouldn't push Dean's jealous buttons from time to time because jealous Dean? Pretty much hotter than anything. Ever.

Dean's hands came up to grip the sides of Sam's face and his eyes opened with a flick. "Never again, Sam. You hear me? From now on, it's just me. Don't let anyone else touch you, ever. It would get ugly, Sammy. I think I would seriously hurt them." His face was almost pressed against Sam's and the rush of love and lust those words evoked had Sam gasping for a breath.

"Yeah, I got it Dean." Hazel eyes looked deep into clear green. It wasn't a promise that Sam even thought about, it was natural.

"I mean it. Be sure, Sam. Or we end this now. I won't share you. Not in any way. If you want me, you got me, but I have to be the only one." Dean struggled to keep his voice from sounding as panicked as he felt giving Sam this out option now.

Sam shook his head vehemently, leaning to kiss Dean, but his brother's hands held him fast and his head moved back, lips out of reach. Waiting.

"Just you, Dean. You are it. I don't want anyone else. But, that goes for you too. I can't watch you with every slut that offers it to you either." Sam knew it was a chance, but he also knew it was true. He couldn't be with Dean knowing there were all those other people. He couldn't.

"Mine." Dean whispered vehemently.

It was Sam's turn to refuse to give in. He pulled away from Dean's attempt to fit their bodies closer together.

Dean kissed Sam's forehead, breathed in the perfect scent of coconut shampoo and sweat and Sammy. "I'm yours, Sammy. You know that. Always been yours."

And that was easy, Dean knew that had always been the truth.


End file.
